"Yes Force." Agnois started away, then halted and stared back aghast. "Which mace, Force? There are a dozen on the wall of the trophy room."
"The mace with which the Noble Lorcas was murdered."
Agnois turned and walked slowly into the castle. Efraim, gritting his teeth, examined the corpse. The head was crushed, and a wound in the back gave evidence of a dagger thrust.
"Close the lid," said Efraim. "There is no more to be learned. Where is Agnois?
He loiters, he tarries!" He signaled a footman. "Find Agnois, ask him to make haste."
The footman presently returned on the run. "Agnois is dead, Force. He has taken poison."
Efraim clapped him on the back. "Return inside; make inquiries! Discover the circumstances!"
He turned sadly back to Baron Erthe. "One of the murderers has escaped me. Be so good as to bury this poor corpse."
In due course the footman reported his findings. Agnois, upon entering the castle, apparently had gone directly to his quarters and there swallowed a fatal draught.
Efraim bathed himself with unwonted zeal. He took a dismal meal in his refectory, then lay down on his couch. For six hours he dozed, tossed, twisted, dreamed evil dreams, then slept soundly from sheer exhaustion.
Efraim had not yet dismissed the aircar which had transported him to Belrod Strang. He now ordered the pilot to convey him to Whispering Ridge.
The aircar rose into the light of the colored suns and flew north around the flank of Camanche, then drifted down to settle on the grass. Efraim alighted, and walked out across the meadow. The serenity was that of lost Arcadia; except for the crag to the east, the view was of clouds and air; isolation from the anxieties, plots, and tragedies of Benbuphar Strang was complete.
At the center of the meadow he paused. The whisper was not perceptible. A moment passed. He heard a sigh, a mingling of a million soft tones, each no louder than a breath. The sigh became a murmur, faded tremulously, rose again, then dwindled toward silence - a sound of elemental melancholy... Efraim heaved a deep sigh of his own and turned toward the forest, to find, as before, a group of Fwai-chi watching from the shade. They shambled forward; he advanced to meet them.
"Before mirk I came here," said Efraim. "Perhaps I spoke to one of you?"
"We were all here."
"I am faced with problems, and they are your problems as well. The Kaiark of Eccord wants Whispering Ridge. He wants to build a pavilion here for his pleasure."
"That is not our problem. It is yours. The men of Scharrode have promised to defend our holy place forever."
"So you say. Do you possess a document attesting to this agreement?"
"We have no document. The promise was exchanged with the kaiarks of old and transferred to each successive kaiark."
"Kaiark Jochaim may so have informed me, but your drugs took my memory, and now I can assert nothing of my own knowledge."
"Still, you must enforce the covenant." The Fwai-chi returned into the forest.
Efraim despondently returned to Benbuphar Strang. He called a meeting of the eiodarks and reported Rianlle's demands. Certain of the eiodarks cried out for mobilization; others sat glum and silent.
"Rianlle is unpredictable," declared Efraim. "At least this is my opinion. Our preparation for war might dissuade him. On the other hand, he would not care to retreat before our defiance, when our resources are inferior to his. Perhaps he will send his troops to occupy the Dwan Jar and then ignore our protests."
"We should occupy the Dwan Jar first, and fortify it!" cried Baron Hectre. "Then we might ignore the protests of Rianlle!"
Baron Haulk said: "The concept is attractive, but the terrain hinders us. He can bring his troops around Camanche and up Duwail Slope; we can supply our forces only by the trail across the front of Lor Cliff, and Rianlle alone on the brink could interdict us. We would more profitably fortify Bazon Scape and the pass at the head of the Gryphon's Claw, but there we invade Eccord soil and prompt sure retaliation."
"Let us look at the physiograph," said Efraim.
The group filed into the octagonal Hall of Strategies. For an hour they studied the thirty-foot-long scale model of Scharrode end the adjoining lands, but only verified what they already knew: if Rianlle sent troops to occupy the Dwan Jar, then these troops would be vulnerable to attack along their supply routes and might well be marooned. "Rianlle may not be able to exercise his strength as effectively as he hopes," mused Baron Erthe. "We may force him into a stalemate."
"You are optimistic," said Baron Dasheil. "He can marshal three thousand sails.
If he brings them here" - he pointed to a scarp overlooking the valley "he can drop them down into Scharrode while our troops are occupied along Bazon Scape.
We can either harass his position on the Dwan Jar, or we can guard the vale against his sails. I cannot define a system whereby we can do both."
Efraim asked; "How many sails can we ourselves muster?"
"We have fourteen hundred eagles and as many winglets."
"Perhaps we could send twenty-eight hundred sails against Belrod Strang."
"Suicide. The glide is too long; the air sweeps down the Groaning Crags."
The group returned to their places around the red syenite table.
Efraim said: "As I understand it, no one feels that we can effectively resist Eccord, if Rianlle decides to wage war in earnest. Am I right?"
No one contradicted him.
Efraim went on. "One point we have not discussed is why Rianlle is so anxious to obtain Dwan Jar. I cannot credit the pavilion theory. I have just returned from Whispering Ridge. The beauty and isolation are too poignant to be borne; I could think only of human transience and the vanity of hope. Rianlle is proud and stubborn, but is he insensitive? I find his plans for a pavilion farfetched."
"Agreed, Rianlle is proud and stubborn," said Baron Szantho, "but this fails to explain his initial commitment to the project."
"There is nothing else on the Dwan Jar but the Fwai-chi sanctuary," Efraim remarked "What profit could he gain from the Fwai-chi?"
The eiodarks considered the matter. Baron Alifer said tentatively: "I have heard a rumor that Rianlle's splendors exceed his income, that Eccord cannot support his fantasies. I could not discredit any theory that he hopes to exploit a hitherto untouched resource - the Fwai-chi. To guard their sanctuary they would be forced to pay him a toll of drugs, crystals, elixirs."
Baron Haulk said: "None of this bears upon our own problems. We must decide upon a policy."
Efraim looked around the table. "We have examined all our options except one: submission to Rianlle's demands. Does the council believe this to be our only feasible course of action, detestable though it is?"
"Realistically, we have no other choice," muttered Baron Haulk.
Baron Hectre pounded his fist on the table. "Can we not assume a defensive posture, even though it is only bluff? Rianlle may think better of forcing the issue!"
Efraim said: "Let us adjourn until next aud, and at that time we will reach a decision."
Again Efraim met with his eiodarks. There was little conversation; all sat with glum faces. Efraim said, "I have searched the archives. I find no sure reference to an agreement with the Fwai-chi. They must be betrayed, and we must submit.
Who disagrees?"
"I disagree," growled Baron Hectre. "I am willing to fight."
"I am willing to fight," said Baron Faroz, "but I do not care to destroy myself and my folk to no purpose. We must submit."